Mara fucking Black.
Milo Black’s sister. Little miss perfection. The baby-faced golden girl of the Black family empire, hidden behind tailored skirts and a family name that opens more doors than God. She’s clutching a stack of books to her chest. Conservative as hell, with her knee-length plaid skirt, cardigan buttoned to the neck, and hair pulled into some tight ponytail.
I’ve seen her around before—everyone has. She doesn’t party, doesn’t date, at least not publicly, and acts like the rest of us are beneath her. Milo keeps her leashed. Unless you grew up in their orbit, you don’t see her. That’s by design.
“She always walk around with that much arrogance?” I mutter, side-eyeing him. “Or is that special for today?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can tell something is crawling under his skin, and it’s not just her outfit.
I look back at Mara, still holding those books against her plump tits. Her posture’s perfect, expression unreadable, but her eyes—those soft, too-bright ice blues—dart toward us, then away. She’s trying to pretend we’re not here.
Good luck with that.
I grin without warmth. “Tell me you’re not choosing that as your new fucking pet,” I say, half-laughing. “The future princess of the United States?”
Now, he looks at me.
And yeah, there it is, that confirmation. That tick in his jaw that says I hit the nerve.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, but I’m stillsmirking. “Milo Black’s twin sister. The good girl in the gilded cage.”
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say shit. Just keeps staring.
“Dre, you good?” I glance at him.
Still no answer.
All right. So, he’s on some bullshit.
I huff a breath, stretching my arms out and rolling my shoulders as we stand in the middle of the quad. Students keep glancing at us, some nervous, some curious.
“You gonna tell me why you look like you wanna rip her apart, or am I just supposed to enjoy the show?”
A minute passes us by and I exhale. “All right, so are we just gonna stand here and be fucking weird, or?—”
And then he moves.
Fast.
Dredyn launches forward, without warning, straight toward the unsuspecting Zane.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake?—”
I follow, already knowing this is gonna be a fucking disaster.
Mara and Zane barely have time to register the six-foot-six freight train barreling their way. Dredyn plows right between them, slamming his shoulder into Zane as he passes.
Mara jumps back with a yelp, and Zane gets knocked off-balance, nearly eating pavement.
“What the fuck?!” he sputters, catching himself at the last second. His face twists with outrage.
Mara’s eyes are huge as she grabs Zane’s arm, steadying him. “Hey! What the hell is your problem?!” she shouts at Dredyn.
I step between them, throwing my hands up. “Okay, okay, let’s not start a fucking lawsuit in the middle of campus, yeah?”
Zane glares at me. “Control your fucking pit bull.”
“He’s housebroken,” I say mildly. “Doesn’t bite unless provoked, which means you have, somehow, already struck a chord.”
